


The Weight Of Love

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 03:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: It's been a couple of years since Harry died in the Forbidden Forest and Voldemort declared his victory over the Wizarding World.  Running an errand in Diagon Alley, Ginny sees a familiar face.Written for the Harry/Ginny Subreddit's Valentine's contest, this story does not take place in my extended Potterverse.





	The Weight Of Love

Ginny stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, the nearly deserted interior of the old pub mirroring the chill, gray January day outside. Pausing on the threshold, she looked around, seeing only a few oldsters sitting silently at the bar. Eternal Tom was behind it, endlessly wiping down the shining surface.

The enormous fireplace, large enough to roast two full-sized oxen, was cold and full of dead ashes. Memories of better days, of the pub full of people clustered around the roaring fireplace, Tom serving food and drink flooded her …. Sighing, Ginny shook herself and squared her shoulders, nodding at Tom as she passed through the pub and entered the little courtyard behind it.

She thought back to the very first time her father had shown her the entrance to Diagon Alley. It had been a special day where her mother had taken her to visit her father at his office and she’d been captivated by all of the different colored memos whizzing through the air. Promising her ice cream for being such a good girl, she’d been amazed at the bricks seeming to melt away and had demanded that he do it again, making him laugh.

“You’ll see it so much that you’ll be bored of it,” Arthur had said, taking her hand in his as they entered the bustling alley.

“Daddy, magic will never be boring,” she’d insisted, full of a six-year-old’s certainty. Now, she watched with only mild interest as she tapped the bricks with her wand, opening the way. 

Far from the colorful, bustling business district of the past, Diagon Alley was a mere shadow of itself, populated by ghosts that flitted around, spending as little time as possible conducting their business. Ginny pulled up the hood of her darkgray cloak, covering her bright red hair as she turned into one of the ghosts. 

Taking a deep breath, she walked out into the alley, refusing to scurry like a frightened mouse. Slowing down as she passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, she looked longingly in the window, her eyes tracing the curving handle of the new Cleansweep. _I wonder if I could take it for a fly?_ Raising her eyes from the broom, she saw the Inferius standing just in the doorway and she shivered, rubbing her arms through her cloak to ward off the gooseflesh that sprang up at the blank yet menacing stare in the creature’s eyes. _No, I have things to do._

Glad she didn’t recognize the person the creature had been, she strode away, heading towards the apothecary. More Inferi hung about, motionless, watching, making her skin crawl as she passed the boarded-up ice cream parlor. Keeping her head down to avoid the sight of the awful things, she turned a corner, glancing up to see the dingy green paint of the apothecary shop.

Head down, she turned into the doorway, running straight into what felt like a brick wall. Looking down, she saw jeans that were falling apart at the cuffs and trainers that were more holes than anything else and took two hurried steps back, fighting a rising sensation of nausea. “I have a list,” she said, feeling in her pocket for the slip of paper her supervisor at St Mungo’s had given to her. “I have permission to be here.”

Pulling out the list, she raised her eyes, steeling herself to look the creature in the face. “I—” she began, stopping dead at the sight of the former Harry Potter standing in front of her. 

Mouth open, Ginny stared, transfixed by the sight of him. His black hair was dull and matted, his dark eyebrows a stark contrast with his grimy, milk-pale skin. She saw he was still wearing the last thing she’d seen him in when Hagrid had carried his lifeless body back to Hogwarts, signaling the Dark Lord’s victory. Unbidden, the memory of the half-giant crumpling to his knees came back to her. _Poor thing, died of a broken heart right there._

Involuntarily, she reached out to touch him, stopping herself right before making contact, heart hammering in her chest. “Harry,” she whispered, squeezing the word out past the lump in her throat. She pushed her hood back, exposing her red hair to the weak sunlight. “It’s me. It’s Ginny,” she said, finally looking into his dull green eyes, searching for a spark of recognition.

_But Inferi don’t remember anything of their past lives, they’re just … empty and brutish. The Dark Lord’s watchers and enforcers. Oh, Harry …._

Pale, bloodless lips parted. “Gin … ny?”

***  
“Ron! Ron, I saw him! In Diagon Alley!” Ginny pulled her brother into the pantry, gripping his arm tightly.

“What? Who? Gerroff!” Ron shook her hand off, rubbing his arm where her fingernails had dug into his skin. 

Licking her lips, Ginny looked left and right, making sure they were alone in the tiny space and leaned forward. “Harry. I saw Harry outside of Slug and Jiggers.”

Ron’s face hardened and he crossed his arms. “No. You didn’t see Harry,” he said, voice implacable.

“It was Harry! He looked just like—”

Raising his hand, Ron cut her off. “No. What you saw was not Harry. It might have looked like Harry, but _it wasn’t him!”_

“But—”

“No.” Scrubbing his hands over his face, Ron sighed and drew her into a hug. “I know, love. I know you want it to be him, but it’s not going to be. You need to accept that.”

Enveloped in her brother’s strong arms, Ginny rubbed her running nose on his sleeve, willing herself not to break apart like a baby in front of him. “I just … I was so surprised. We all wondered … you know?” The shock of seeing Harry’s body tumbling to the ground, Hagrid’s own death next to the boy he loved, Fred’s death, Tonks, Remus …. _So much chaos … we just lost track._

“What were you doing in Diagon Alley, anyway?” Ron asked, stepping back and giving her his patented Stern-Older-Brother look. “Were you alone?”

“I had to go for work. Healer Abraham needed some things from the apothecary and sent me.” She looked up at him, tapping him in the middle of his chest. “I’m an adult and can do things on my own, you know.”

“I know. But being in the Order makes things dangerous.”

“Being alive right now makes things dangerous,” Ginny countered.

“What are you two doing in here?” Hermione asked, opening the door of the pantry. 

“I needed to get that,” Ginny said, pointing to a dilapidated cardboard box on the highest shelf. “Ron, can you?” Reaching it easily, he handed her the box, giving her what she knew was his don’t breathe a word of this to Hermione look. “Thank you,” she said sweetly, kissing him on the cheek as she squeezed past Hermione’s hugely pregnant belly.

***  
Ginny closed the book and pushed it aside, picking up her cold tea. “You weren’t helpful at all,” she said, reheating the tea with a tap of her wand. She stared moodily at the drab walls of the Magical Medical Library at St Mungo’s, ruminating on what she’d found out about Inferi. 

Everything she’d read agreed on several points. An Inferius was created from a corpse, they were immune to pain, could only be destroyed by fire, were monstrously strong and retained no memories of their former lives.

_But he recognized me! I know he did. He said my name! There’s got to be something in there, still._ Sipping her tea, she came to a decision. “I have to find him and see him again,” she said to the empty room. The books were not impressed by her declaration and simply stayed books.

Standing up, she drew her drab gray-green Healer’s robes around her and gathered the books, quickly shelving them to hide her newfound interest. _I’ll go find Healer Abraham. I’m sure we’ve got to be low on something._

A few minutes later, she was skipping through the empty, cold Leaky Cauldron, giddiness replacing the sensation of dread that had accompanied her last trip to the wizarding district, remembering to cover her eye-catching hair at the last moment. Impatiently, she waited for the way to open, darting through the moment the archway was big enough to accommodate her.

_Will he still be at the apothecary? How often do they change … duties? How do they know? Does the Dark Lord come through and personally …._ She swallowed down a shiver of fear at the prospect of coming face-to-face with the Dark Lord right here in the gray afternoon light and being recognized as a Blood Traitor. 

As before, Inferi were scattered around the alley, dull eyes watching as a handful of witches and wizards went about their business. There, lurking in the doorway of Eeylop’s Owl Emporium was Michael Corner and her heart twisted. His cloudy grey eyes stared straight ahead, expression completely blank. Looking at him, memories of first kisses and giggles swept through her, leaving her shaking and faintly sick. _Well, it’s an opportunity to test my theory._

Checking to make sure no one else was nearby, she slowly approached the Inferius that had been her first boyfriend until she stood in front of him. He continued to stare straight ahead, betraying no reaction to her proximity. “Michael,” she said softly, waving her hand in front of his face. “It’s me, Ginny Weasley.” She waited, watching him closely for any change. Glancing around once more, she lowered her hood, shaking out her long red hair. “Ginny,” she said again. 

Michael only stared straight ahead with that eerie, empty expression and she sighed, raising her hood once more, walking quickly away down the alley. _So he didn’t recognize me at all. Is that good?_ Deep in thought, she searched the shops for Harry, turning the corner where the apothecary shop stood. The doorway was empty and her heart plummeted. _Maybe he’s on duty somewhere else._ Turning around, she headed toward Madam Malkin’s, keeping her head down as she swept the area constantly with her eyes.

After a few moments, she became aware of the sound of footsteps behind her, the space between her shoulders tingling unpleasantly. _Don’t look, don’t look, just keep walking, just … keep …._ Feeling as if her head were on a string, she turned, craning her neck until she was just able to see over her shoulder. Dull, matted black hair caught her eye and she gasped, whirling to face Harry. 

Her heart ached to see him move towards her, expression dull and all of his natural grace taken from him as he shambled forward, footsteps echoing in the narrow alleyway. Glancing around, she saw a boarded-up shop and ducked into the doorway, lowering her hood once she was sure she was out of sight of the occasional shopper. 

Swallowing against the rise of bile in her throat, she forced herself to stand still as Harry shambled forward, nearly tripping over a frayed shoelace. As he came closer, the vacant, empty expression seemed to become troubled for a brief moment before clouding over again. After what seemed like an eternity, he came to a lurching stop in front of her, eyes fixed on her hair. Moving as if he were in deep water, he raised a hand, the nails cracked and filthy. Ginny held her breath as he reached for a lock of hair that tumbled over her shoulder, pinching it between two fingers as he stared at it intently. “Gin … ny,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper.

“Harry,” Ginny whispered, her vision blurring as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Harry, what did they do to you?” 

“Gin-ny,” he said again, the word coming clearer as he tugged almost painfully on the lock of hair. 

“Yes, Ginny,” she said, wiping her eyes. Steeling herself, she took his hand in hers, gently pulling it away from her hair. Unnerved by the cold hardness of it, she forced herself to hold it, tracing the pad of her thumb over his cracked, dry skin. _I used to be the one with the cold hands._ “Harry,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He frowned and gave a small shake of his head as if he were disagreeing with someone, squeezing her hand back. “Ginny,” he insisted.

“Harry,” she repeated, touching him in the middle of his chest. _Oh, God, a Weasley jumper._

“Ginny,” he said again, the word sounding so normal that her heart fluttered. The bang of a slamming door echoed down the alley and she nearly jumped in alarm.

“Listen, we can do you Tarzan and me Jane all day, but someone’s going to see us here,” she said, lifting her hood once more, making sure all of her hair was neatly tucked inside. She took his hand, lacing her fingers firmly through his as she looked around to make sure they were still hidden from sight. Adrenaline, not from fear but from excitement raced through her veins as she fixed her mind on her destination. “God, I hope this works,” she murmured as she Apparated the both of them out of Diagon Alley.

***  
“Mum, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’m going to skip the meeting tonight, all right?” Ginny set the stack of dirty plates into the sink, taking care to slouch and look low-energy. It wasn’t much of a stretch. After the adrenaline of returning to Diagon Alley, finding Harry and spiriting him to St Mungo’s and then home, she felt nearly done in.

Molly dried her hands on a dishtowel and pressed the back of one to Ginny’s forehead. “You do feel a bit warm and I thought you looked peaky at dinner.” She went back to monitoring the washing up. “I saw you pushing your food around your plate.”

“It was a stressful day at work. I just need a bit of a lie-down is all.” Ginny held her breath, hoping her mum wouldn’t see through her lie. _Well, it was a stressful day and I could definitely use a lie-down, but what I really need is an empty house._

Molly patted her on her shoulder and smiled. “You stay home tonight and get some rest. There will be enough excitement on the horizon. Your father and Kingsley are getting some momentum at the Ministry.”

“That’s good news, Mum. Tell Kingsley I’m sorry to have missed him.” She gave an enormous stretch and what she was sure was the fakest-looking yawn ever. “I’m going to head upstairs.”

On the way to the stairs, she passed Ron in the lounge, massaging Hermione’s feet. The sight of the two of them sharing such a quiet, homey moment pulled at her heart and she paused, cursing herself for giving her brother an opportunity to notice her standing there. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m not feeling too great, so I’m going to go up for a lie-down,” Ginny said, making sure to sound tired.

“You’re not coming to the meeting?” Hermione said, taking Ron’s hand to help sit up on the sofa. “I was going to give my presentation on the results of our Bring Them Into The Fold initiative.”

“I’m really sorry, Hermione, but it was a shit day at work and I’ve got a headache and I’m just exhausted,” Ginny said, trying not to notice the expression on Hermione’s face that said, _I’m seven bloody months pregnant, don’t you think I’m exhausted, too?_

“Oh, well, feel better. We’ll catch you up later, all right?” she said, rubbing her lower back.

“Yeah, all right.” Swamped with guilt, Ginny fled up the stairs to her room, closing the door securely and locking it. Eyes darting around the dimness, she breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see Harry. Crossing to her closet, she opened it, glad to see him standing exactly where she put him. 

He reached for her hair again, tugging a bit more gently this time as he murmured her name. “Shh,” she whispered, carefully disentangling his rough fingers from her hair. “No one’s meant to know I have you here, all right?” She wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of his unique bouquet. “Although if we don’t do something about that soon, it won’t matter if you make noise; they’ll have smelled you long before.”

Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the closet, seating him on her old desk chair. He moved obediently with no resistance, doing just what she made him do. She sat on the end of her bed, wishing she dared turn on a light as she looked at him. 

He looked basically the same as she remembered only somehow … less. His face had the same contours, the same curve of his cheek that had fit her hand so well when they kissed, but now it was as if the underlying muscle had lost some essential tone. His skin, what she could see underneath the accumulated grime, was ashen and pale and his eyes looked like they had a sort of cloudy film over them. _They’re still green though. Other Inferi have those odd whiteish eyes, so maybe …._

“Ginny, we’re leaving,” Molly said through the door. “Do you need anything?” 

“No, Mum, thanks. I’ll see you in the morning,” she called, making sure she sounded half-asleep. Setting her ear against the door, she listened to the squeaks of the well-worn stairs as her parents descended. Opening her door just a crack, she heard the sounds of Ron and Hermione leaving with her parents, using the Floo rather than Apparating. 

Impatient, she forced herself to wait another ten minutes to allow for any “Oops, I forgot my jumper” incidents before opening her door all the way and venturing out. Hearing nothing, she went back into her room and tugged Harry up off her chair, pulling him into the hallway and towards the bathroom. Closing the lid on the toilet, she sat him down again and looked at the tub. 

“Hmm, does temperature matter? Will you wash if I tell you to?” Shrugging, she started the bath filling at a warm, comfortable temperature and turned back to the Inferius that used to be Harry Potter, sitting passively on the lid of the toilet. She looked carefully at his clothing, determining that it was more holes than fabric and completely unsalvageable. “Stay here,” she said, seeing his lips move as he mumbled her name again.

She ran quickly upstairs to Ron and Hermione’s room, pausing for a moment before opening the top drawer of the chest of drawers. An array of boxers greeted her and she grabbed a pair. The next drawer yielded socks and then a tee shirt. “Trousers … Ron’s a bit taller.” On her knees, she opened the bottom drawer, digging far down in the drawer in the hopes of finding a pair of jeans that wouldn’t be missed. She pulled out a pair that had a hole in the knee and old paint on the thighs and nodded.

Standing up with her treasures, she glanced at the closet door. “Shoes …” she murmured and opened the door, finding an old, beat-up pair of trainers she could use for Harry. Just as she was closing the door, a box up on a shelf caught her eye. “Harry” was written on the outside and she swallowed the lump in her throat. _Too small for clothes. We’ll have to check that out later._

Back in the bathroom, the water was exactly where she wanted it and she shut it off, setting the clothes and box down on the floor. Harry still sat, staring at the wall across from him. “All right. Let’s um, get you undressed, I guess?” Ginny did her best to put on her professional manner as she pushed and pulled the unresisting Harry until he was undressed before her, his rotten, stinking clothes in a pile on the floor. 

As more of his skin came into view, her heart sank to see the little nicks and cuts all over his body. She touched the shiny white skin in the middle of his chest, sucking in a breath. “This was when you were still … you,” she said, hesitant to use the word alive. Another cut, the edges ragged and bloodless ran across his ribs almost from armpit to bellybutton. Turning him around, she traced several on his back that crossed over each other, looking as if he’d been beaten with some sort of sharp object.

Her lips in a thin line, Ginny continued her work. _He can’t feel pain. He didn’t feel anything when those … things happened. He doesn’t know. You can’t heal him._

“Careful now,” she said as she guided him into the warm water of the bathtub, the water coming dangerously close to the top but not slopping over. He seemed to be equally at ease in the water as he was out of it and sat still. Already she could see the water around him turning gray. Gathering up his old things, she ran downstairs, throwing them into the fireplace and burning them to ash with a blast of fire from her wand. 

Upstairs once more, she was relieved to see that Harry hadn’t managed to drown in the bath. “Although I suppose if you did slip under, you wouldn’t be too fussed about it, would you?” she said, conjuring up a low stool next to the tub. She picked up a flannel and dipped it in the warm water, soaping it up thoroughly. Deciding to start on his back, she pushed his shoulder to lean him forward, rubbing the soapy cloth over his skin, gratified to see the dirt come off.

_So thin, I can see all the knobs of his spine,_ she thought, recalling when he, Ron and Hermione had come into the Room of Requirement. They had all three of them been thin, but Ron and Hermione had had the time to recover, whereas Harry had essentially been frozen in time. _Forever seventeen …._

To fill the silence while she cleaned the accumulated dirt and grime from him, Ginny talked. “You’ve missed quite a bit while you’ve been gone,” she said, keeping her voice light and conversational. “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that the Dark Lord reigns over us all now. He’s got the Ministry under his thumb. It’s not a good time for Muggleborns; Hermione and Ron _had_ to get married so he could protect her through the Pureblood Act.”

“The Malfoys are in the thick of things as you can imagine. Lucius is for all intents and purposes Headmaster at Hogwarts now. I’ve never understood why he wants so desperately to run the school. Does he care that much about molding young minds?” Ginny snorted and blew a lock of hair out of her face as she lifted Harry’s arm, scrubbing the pale skin of his bicep. “Warping young minds, more like. D’you know he’s abolished Gryffindor house?” 

“Ginny,” Harry grunted, making another play for her hair. Taking his hand, she picked up a scrub brush and went to work on his fingernails, digging out layers of filth. 

“Of course there’s resistance. Dad’s got the Order going with the usual suspects. Can’t have an open rebellion though, that’s just a death sentence and with the Weasley name ….” Ginny shook her head and put his left hand down, reaching for his right. “But along with the name comes pure blood and known good breeders, so I suppose we’re all right for now.”

She uncapped her shampoo, the scent of apples filling the room and she poured a generous dollop in his wet hair, scrubbing gently. To her surprise, Harry closed his eyes. “Ginny,” he whispered, reminding her of when they used to kiss by the lake. 

As she ran her fingers through his hair, she encountered a bald patch nearly the size of a Galleon where it had clearly been torn out. Anger surging through her at the further evidence of his obvious mistreatment, she finished the job, rinsing until she felt only clean hair. 

Carefully helping him out of the tub, she briefly considered how she might dry him off and decided that she’d already washed every bit of him, so she might as well finish the job. Before too long, she had him re-dressed in Ron’s things, the cuffs of the jeans rolled up just a bit. 

Standing before her in her brother’s clothes, the Inferius looked like an ordinary, if pale, teenage boy. Ginny tried to arrange his hair so it wasn’t hanging in his eyes so much. “Ginny,” he said, catching hold of her hair again. 

“Yes, I’m Ginny and you’re Harry. D’you think you could say your own name?” She put her hand flat against his chest, no longer repelled at the coolness of his body. “Harry,” she said. “Your name is Harry Potter.” His clouded green eyes met hers and a small line appeared between his brows, making him look like he was thinking. “Say it. Harry. Say your name.”

“Har … ry,” he finally said, pushing out the word as if it were a huge effort.

Happiness surged through Ginny and she threw her arms around him, holding his cool, unyielding body close to hers. Impulsively she kissed him on the cheek, the sensation of the stubble against her lips surprising. Embarrassed at her impromptu display of affection, she stepped back, looking up at his impassive face. Frowning, she swept her thumb over his lower lip, pulling it down. “What’s that? Did you ….” Eyes widening in shock, she saw a flush of living pink on his lips.

***  
 _Oh, God, when will this meeting end?_ Ginny thought, struggling to stay awake while Perkins droned on about the current status of infiltrating the Office of Inquisitions. She surreptitiously eyed Professor Horace Slughorn as he sat contentedly in what was the most comfortable chair in the room, his hands folded neatly over his considerable paunch. Well past the age of pleasing anyone, he was quite obviously asleep, his upper lip vibrating in time with his quiet snores. 

Finally, her father called an end to the meeting, everyone standing up and stretching stiff limbs as they chatted quietly, breaking apart into smaller groups. Seizing her opportunity, Ginny approached the still-snoozing professor, touching him gently on the shoulder. 

“Professor,” she said as he snorted himself awake, blinking owlishly and looking around the room. “Do you have time for a bit of a chat?”

“Oh, Ginny my dear. Yes, of course.” He sat up straighter in the chair, smacking his lips. “It seems I’m a bit thirsty. Can you see if Molly has any of that lovely mead put by?”

“I’ll go check.” Ginny went into the small kitchen of the nondescript flat they used for Order meetings these days, nodding to old Dedalus Diggle who was hovering around Kingsley, looking like he needed an urgent word. Along with the mead, she filled a small plate with a selection of nibbles and returned to Slughorn.

“Ah, delightful,” he said, plucking a smoked salmon sandwich from the plate as she handed him the glass of mead. He smiled at her as he ate his sandwich and look a healthy slug of mead. “Now, what was it you wished to talk about, dear girl?” he asked, patting his lips with a napkin. 

“Well, I was in Diagon Alley about a week ago and well, you know all of the Inferi that are there now,” she said, affecting a hushed tone. 

“Yes, terrible things. Abomination of flesh and spirit,” Slughorn said, jowls pooching out as he frowned.

“I feel more sorry for them than anything—”

“Of course you do. Your Healer instincts.” Slughorn patted her hand sympathetically and she nodded, trying not to show her irritation at the interruption.

“And I thought that there must be something I can do for them to ease their suffering, as it were. I checked the Medical Library at St Mungo’s but information about them is very hard to find.” She pushed the sandwich-laden plate closer to his hand. “And I wanted to know if you knew if anything might be done. If there’s a potion or … something?”

Ginny waited, willing herself to be still and patient as Slughorn ate another sandwich, chewing slowly. “Ginny, dear, I believe I saw some ginger biscuits. Would you mind terribly bringing me some?”

“Of course, Professor. I’ll be right back.” _Is he going to do a runner on me?_ She recalled how Ron and Hermione had told her what Harry had said about Slughorn’s evasiveness when Harry had been trying to discover what the old professor knew about Horcruxes and she quickly piled a plate with crunchy ginger biscuits.

“Very generous, thank you,” Slughorn said, eyes lighting up at the mound of biscuits on the plate. Ginny waited while he crunched through several, on the verge of asking her question again when the brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Now, on the subject of Inferi. You know what they are?”

She thought of Harry in the bath, all of his unhealed nicks and cuts on display. “Reanimated corpses, right?”

Slughorn nodded and washed down another ginger biscuit with a swallow of mead. Ginny eyed the level in the glass warily. “Exactly so, reanimated through a very complex process that must take place before the soul has departed the body.” 

A strange rushing sound filled her ears and she shook her head. “Sorry?”

“Yes. A ghost is a soul without a body, and a victim of the Dementor’s Kiss is a body whose soul has been removed, but to have a functioning Inferius, the soul must remain with the body.” Slughorn crunched through another biscuit and finished his mead. 

Ginny automatically took the glass he held out to her and refilled it, mind whirling with the revelation. _So Harry’s soul is still in there. There must be something that can be done to make him Harry again._ Back at Slughorn’s side, she sat down, playing her part of attentive young Trainee Healer, eager to do good in the world. “If that’s the case then, there must be some way to restore an Inferius to its former self? The soul and body are both there.”

Slughorn shook his head sadly. “There is nothing that can make the dead live again. There’s the legend of the Resurrection Stone, but it’s never been confirmed to be found.”

Ginny sat quietly. She’d had Harry around for nearly a week, keeping him hidden in her closet when she was at home and Apparating him to work with her and keeping him basically hidden in plain sight in the Spell Damage ward. He had yet to say anything other than her name or his, but she thought that he was starting to take more notice of his surroundings. She couldn’t be completely sure, but she also thought that the pink color that had appeared on his lips after the bath was spreading. _There’s something at work here. There’s just got to be something I can do._

“Oh dear, that’s just awful then. Those poor creatures,” she said, not having to fake much wistfulness. A deep lassitude swept over her and he held back a yawn. _What’s come over me lately? It’s not even that late._ Giving the air of changing the subject, she took a ginger biscuit from the much-diminished pile. “Do you know, I dreamed about Harry the other night?”

“I daresay you’re not the only one who dreams about him,” he said, face creasing in sympathy. 

“I just keep wondering if he could survive the Dark Lord as a baby, how come he couldn’t a second time?” Ginny asked, giving voice to the question she’d been harboring ever since she’d seen Harry in Diagon Alley.

Slughorn surprised her by raising an eyebrow. “Do you know exactly what happened that night?”

“The Dark Lord attacked the Potters at Godric’s Hollow, killed his parents and then tried to kill Harry, but it didn’t work,” she said, trying not to sound like she was reciting a history lesson.

“Ah, yes, but why wasn’t the Dark Lord able to kill a baby in his cot?”

“I don’t know.”

“Love.”

“Love,” Ginny echoed, absently eating another ginger biscuit.

“His mother sacrificed herself. The Dark Lord was going to allow her to live as a favor to one of his followers, but she threw herself in front of Harry, taking most of it herself and saving Harry from what hit him and gave him that scar.” He shook his head, absently rolling the remnants of the golden mead around in the glass. “Only a love like that can counter something as terrible as the Death Curse.”

“Love, of course,” Ginny said, mind working furiously. “It’s been lovely chatting with you, Professor. I’m going to head home. Can I get you anything else before I go?” Slughorn waggled his empty glass at her and she took it, moving quickly to the kitchen. The crowd was beginning to thin and she saw her parents still in deep conversation with Kingsley and Dedalus. 

Turning away from the mead, she bumped into her brother. “Are you leaving soon?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early morning,” she said, trying to step around him.

“Can you take Hermione with you? I need to stay a bit longer.”

Disappointed at not being able to have a few minutes of an empty house, she nodded. “Yes, certainly. Let me take this to Professor Slughorn.”

Ron snorted and nodded his head toward the old man in the comfortable chair. “I saw him talking your ear off. Hope he wasn’t too boring.”

“On the contrary, he was very informative.”

Later that night, long after she was sure that everyone in the house was asleep, Ginny got out of bed and lit the single light next to her bed. She sat up, annoyed at a small wave of dizziness that swept over her and resisted the urge to just lay back down and go to sleep. _Why have I been so tired lately? Maybe I ought to get checked out._

She got out of bed and crept to her closet, holding her breath as she opened the door. Harry was still in place, lips moving as he whispered her name when he saw her. Taking his hand, she drew him out of the closet, sitting him down on her desk chair.

“Ginny,” he said, keeping his hands to himself. Over the last couple of days, he seemed to have lost some of his fascination with her hair and no longer snatched it at every opportunity, for which she was very grateful. 

“Harry,” she whispered back, looking at him closely, lighting the tip of her wand for extra light. His eyes were still clouded, and his skin still had an ashen, grayish pallor except for that pink on his lips. _Has it spread?_ She reached out, touching him where his neck and shoulder met, confirming that he still felt cold to the touch. Trailing her fingers up his neck, she pressed them into his carotid artery and felt none of the pulsing sensation of life. 

His eyes had wandered away from her while she’d conducted her examination and she put her hand on his cheek. “Harry,” she said, bringing his attention back to her. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath. “Harry. I love you.” _There’s no way it can be this easy, but I’ve got to try,_ she thought as she breathlessly awaited her declaration to work some sort of miracle. He continued to stare blankly at her and she sighed. 

“I know you’re in there somewhere. You know who I am. I just need you to come back to me.” Taking his cool hands in hers, she squeezed. “Maybe I need to draw you out?”

Searching her memories, she brightened. “I’m going to tell you a story. Well, I suppose more of a confession, really.” She took a deep breath and started reciting a poem, her face turning redder and redder. 

_“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_  
 _His hair is as dark as a blackboard._  
 _I wish he was mine, he's truly divine,_  
 _the hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”_  
She finished her recitation and looked at Harry’s face, searching for any sign of recognition. He stared back and she thought that maybe his eyes looked a bit less clouded … _but that could just be the light._

“So, there you are. I confess. I’m the one that sent you that terrible Valentine. It’s not entirely my fault, though. Demelza Robins absolutely insisted that boys liked that sort of thing.” Ginny paused and shook her head. “D’you remember Demelza? She was a Chaser for Gryffindor when you were Captain.” Refusing to be disappointed at his lack of response, she leaned in close. “I didn’t tell her who it was for, though,” she whispered, kissing him once more on his cold cheek.

***  
Walking quickly down the hallway, Ginny turned a corner, spinning on her heel to go back the way she came when she saw Healer Gordon at the Mediwitch station. _Shit. I’m supposed to be on Accidental Magic right now, not here. I really need to check on Harry. That meeting went far too long._

For the last couple of weeks, she’d been Apparating with Harry each workday to the Spell Damage ward, leaving him in a small closet not too far from the Longbottoms and she tried to check on him every couple of hours. So far, she’d been lucky and Harry had been perfectly content to stay quietly in the closet, but over the last couple of days he’d become a bit tougher to manage, trying to follow her down the hall.

This morning had been especially trying and she’d needed to take him back three times, finally resorting to locking the door. “No, Harry, you need to stay in here, all right? I have work to do,” she’d said, pushing lightly on his chest to make him walk backwards.

“Ginny,” he mumbled, that little line appearing between his eyes. 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, all right? Just … stay here and be quiet.”

“Ginny.”

“Sshh, quiet,” she said, slowly closing the door, casting a Locking Charm for good measure. As she walked away, she thought she heard her name again, this time with a note of pleading and a shiver went down her spine.

Time had gotten away from her and nearly half the workday was gone by the time she was able to get away for a few minutes to check on her charge. Peeking around the corner, she saw Healer Gordon had left and she breathed a sigh of relief, giving the Mediwitch at the station a casual wave as she coasted past. Once out of sight, she walked faster, robes billowing around her, nearly running as the closet came into sight.

As she approached, she heard a rattling sound and saw the door was jumping on its hinges. “Oh no,” she whispered, heart jumping into her throat. She knew how strong an Inferius could be; the _Daily Prophet_ had reported on one that had gotten loose in Muggle London last year, destroying a black cab and she cursed herself for not thinking of reinforcing the door. 

“Harry, I’m here, I’m here …” she crooned softly through the door as she released the Locking Charm. He said her name again, this time with a hopeful note and Ginny opened the door, stepping quickly inside and closing the door behind her.

Crowding close in the confined space, she lit her wand and examined him closely. The pink she’d first noticed on his lips after she’d bathed him had spread and he sported two spots of color on his cheeks, giving him an oddly sheepish look. His skin was still cool to the touch and she couldn’t detect anything resembling a pulse or a heartbeat. _Yet_ , she thought. 

She ran the pad of her thumb over a shallow scrape on one cheek. “No blood. What did you do to yourself in here?” Bringing the lit tip of her wand close to his eyes, she looked closely for any reaction from his pupils to the light, but they stayed the same. “Less cloudy though,” she said with satisfaction, making a mental note to write down that the whites of his eyes were less yellow as well in her notes. 

_But how can I finish or hurry this along? I want him whole already. Professor Slughorn said love was why he’d survived the Dark Lord’s curse the first time. I’ve told him over and over that I love him, told him stories of people that love him every night. She crossed her arms, thinking of other alternatives. Do we need to … make love?_

Harry grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it through his fingers and making her wince as a few strands were pulled out of her head, breaking her out of her reverie. “Harry,” he said, his voice sounding just as she remembered it. 

“Yes, Harry.” She looked up at him, gently taking his hand out of her hair and lacing their fingers together. _I don’t mind touching him, kissing his cheek, but … I wouldn’t feel right. I mean, could he even consent to something … like … that?_

“I know you’re in there. I just wish I knew what else I needed to do. Help me, Harry. Show me what to do.” He continued to stare blankly at her and she sighed, laying her head against his chest, wishing with all her being that she would hear even a single heartbeat from him. 

“Ron,” he grunted, sending a thrill of surprise through her. He’d begun saying a few other words, mostly names and he’d said her brother’s name several times, though “Hermione” still gave him trouble. He’d moved on from “Ermy” to “Ermynee” and now said it almost as much as he said her name.

“Oh, love, I don’t dare. Ron was the only other person I told that I’d found you and he … didn’t react well.” Ginny remembered that conversation in the pantry. 

_Tall and implacable, Ron stood in front of her. “No. What you saw was not Harry. It might have looked like Harry, but it wasn’t him!”_

_But it is! I wish you could see that. I wish you could help. You and Hermione love him so much. Mum and Dad, too._ “I just don’t know if I’m enough,” Ginny murmured, yawning hugely. 

_Maybe I could just have a little nap in here._ “You wouldn’t mind, would you, Harry?” she asked, looking up at him. “If I used you for a pillow?” She sighed when he didn’t respond and stood up straight. “Just a little bit longer, love, and then we’ll go home,” she said, taking care to reinforce the door when she closed it back on him.

That night, she begged off of another Order meeting, using her monthly as the excuse this time. Molly frowned at her as she put on her coat, looking her over closely. “Are they working you too hard over there at St Mungo’s? You seem to have been tired an awful lot lately.”

“No, I haven’t,” she protested, wondering if she’d been laying it on a bit thick lately. “It was just a busy day and I spent most of it on my feet.” She put her hands on her lower back for emphasis, hunching forward a little as if she were stretching.

Looking at her dubiously, Molly secured her scarf around her neck. “Well, I hope you feel better. I know your father appreciates your support for the Order, but if you feel you don’t belong in it, just say it.”

Stunned, Ginny’s mouth fell open. “Mum, I never said—” she started, but Molly had already turned away, bustling around Hermione. 

Ron put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him. “She’s just worried,” he said quietly. “I honestly think she’d be fine if you left the Order. Prefer it, even.”

“What about you? You’ve got Hermione and a baby on the way. I don’t have anything.” _Just a dead ex-boyfriend up in my closet._

“I have to. I’m this close to getting in with the Inquisitorial Squad.” He put his hands in his jacket pockets and nudged her. “We all have our part to play, yeah? Yours will come.”

“Mm, thanks.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” Ron’s eyes fell on his wife as she was adjusting her coat over her pregnant belly. “Whose idea was it to schedule a meeting on Valentine’s Day, anyway?”

“Next year,” Ginny said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll even baby sit.”

She stood and watched as her family disappeared into the Floo. _I can’t believe Mum thinks I want to leave the Order. I’ve just been busy … and a little tired. Having Harry around is a lot of work._ Thinking of Harry propelled her up the stairs, mulling over her plan for the evening.

_Professor Slughorn said love was what saved him from the Dark Lord’s curse. I wonder if love can bring him back?_ She made a quick run up to Ron’s room, taking the box with Harry’s name on it from the top shelf. Opening the door to her room, she saw Harry sitting on her bed, decidedly not in the closet where she’d left him.

“You are not where I left you,” she said, checking the open closet door for any damage. It seemed that he’d simply used the doorknob to open it and she cursed herself for forgetting to set a Locking Charm on it. “I’ll have to remember that tonight,” she said as she bent to pick up the box with Harry’s name on it from the floor of the closet.

The box was very light and she wondered once more what was in it. When she’d plucked it from Ron’s closet, she’d thought it might have some of Harry’s old clothes in it, but now she wasn’t so sure. “Well, we’ll take care of that mystery tonight, shall we?”

Taking him by the hand, she led him carefully downstairs, remembering when he and Ron would gallop down the stairway, heedless of anyone in their way. Now he moved as if he were a marionette piloted by a very inexperienced puppeteer. They were almost to the bottom when he tripped, sending them stumbling down the last couple of steps and banging her hard against the wall. 

Ginny looked up at Harry’s face so close to hers, flooded with memories of finding isolated places in the corridors of Hogwarts to steal kisses, once ducking behind a tapestry, giggling madly at the notion of getting caught by Mrs Norris. Her mouth went dry as she struggled to get her breath back, seized by a sudden notion that if they kissed, he would be restored like a princess in a fairytale.

“Come on,” she said, gently pushing him away from her. “We have work to do.”

In the lounge, she settled him on the sofa, settling the box on her lap. It was just regular cardboard and not much larger than a shoebox. “Oh, this actually is a shoebox!” she said out loud, catching sight of the logo on the side of it. _Harry_ was written in black marker on the lid. “Well, let’s see what we have, shall we?”

Ginny lifted off the lid and set it aside, delaying the moment until she finally looked inside the box. When she finally did, it took her a little while to realize what she was looking at. There was a bedraggled, grubby-looking pouch on a string lying on top of some other assorted things. 

Frowning, she carefully lifted it out, noticing that the string looked like it had been snapped by considerable force. As she studied it, she realized what it was. “Your mokeskin pouch! Harry, look,” she said holding it out to him. He turned his head at the sound of her voice, and she raised the pouch to his eye level. “Hagrid gave this to you for your seventeenth birthday.”

“Hagger,” he said, reminding her of Grawp. 

“Hagrid,” she repeated, enunciating the name clearly. 

“Hag … rid,” Harry echoed.

“Very good! Now, let’s see what’s in here. I can feel some things …” Ginny untied the strings holding the pouch closed and reached inside, feeling nothing. “Hm, okay. There’s definitely things in there, but …” She reached in again, marveling at how large the small bag was on the inside, but came up empty. “Oh! I remember now! Only the owner of the pouch can get the things that are inside.” 

She smiled sadly for a moment as she remembered Harry’s seventeenth birthday party. The Snitch-shaped cake, Hagrid cramming himself into the Weasley’s kitchen … _Hagrid._ “I didn’t tell you earlier Harry, but Hagrid died after carrying you back to the castle from the forest. I guess his heart couldn’t take your, erm, death.” She took Harry’s hand and put the pouch in it. “Here. Reach in there and let’s see what you pull out.”

Harry looked down at the pouch in his hand, a small frown appearing on his face. Slowly, he reached inside, drawing out a much-folded sheet of parchment. It was covered in stains and fingerprints and Ginny unfolded it, discovering that it was quite large, but completely blank. 

“That’s odd. I wonder did Hermione put you in charge of extra parchment?” she asked, folding it back up and putting it into the box. “What else is in there? Go on, have another look.”

Encouraged by her reaction to the parchment he’d pulled out, Harry reached in once more, hand closing in a fist as he pulled out the next object—a golden Snitch—and handed it to her. She hefted it in her hand, letting it roll around in her palm and she smiled at him. “Once a Seeker, always a Seeker, I guess?” she said, putting in the shoebox.

“Seeker,” Harry said, sticking his hand back into the pouch, this time coming up with two pieces of wood, joined together by the barest, shimmering thread of phoenix feather.

Ginny stared at it, transfixed, remembering what Hermione had told her of that awful trip to Godric’s Hollow and how they’d almost been caught by the Dark Lord himself. “I was trying to blast that damned snake and the spell rebounded, hitting Harry’s wand instead and it just snapped in two,” she’d said one night when they both couldn’t sleep. “He was so upset that it was broken, but he insisted he wasn’t angry with me.” 

_Maybe this will be the key!_ Ginny thought eagerly, picking up her own wand. “I know Hermione said she couldn’t repair it, but there’s bound to be a thing or two even she’s not very good at,” she said, carefully laying the broken wand on the coffee table in front of them. 

Harry reached out, stroking one half of the holly wood with the tip of one finger. Ginny looked at him, pleased to see the look of concentration on his face. “Yes, love, your wand. You’ll hold it again in a minute, all right?”

Full of confidence, Ginny focused on the broken wand in front of her, visualizing all of the times she’d seen it in Harry’s hands as he’d cast a spell, twirled it in his fingers or idly tapped it against a table in the common room as he read. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the Repair Spell, thinking of the times she’d cast it offhand for little things, almost without a second thought. Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out, casting the most precise, most perfect Repair Spell she’d ever done.

The two halves of the broken wand twitched halfheartedly towards each other, nearly rolling off of the coffee table, and then lay still. Harry picked up one half and Ginny took it away from him, worried that the filament of feather would break under any sort of handling. Bitterly disappointed, she settled the pieces carefully in the box, vowing that she’d take it to Ollivander. He no longer had the shop in Diagon Alley, but Bill and Fleur had set up a little workbench in Shell Cottage for him. 

“Well, is there anything else in there?” Ginny tried to salvage her earlier, bright mood, picking up the pouch from the floor where it had fallen in the excitement of the wand. Harry dug into it again, coming out with another grubby piece of paper. “You are quite the pack rat, aren’t you?” she said as she unfolded it, her breath catching in her throat at the torn picture that fell out.

“Oh, Harry, look! Your first broomstick! And I think that’s your dad, James!” Excited by the find, Ginny held the picture up, waving it a little to attract his attention to it. He stared at it, clearly captivated by the moving image of him as a toddler zooming around on a toy broom, chased by his father. 

As he stared at the picture, Ginny read the letter out loud to him. _“Dear Padfoot,”_ it began and she felt her throat close at the memory of Harry’s godfather, Sirius. Clearing her throat, she continued, keeping her voice chipper, hardly believing that she was reading something Harry’s mother had written. _“Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite …”_

When she finished the letter, Ginny sighed, leaning her head against Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, love, what a treasure. Where did you find this?” She took the picture out of Harry’s hand, studying it closely. Baby Harry zipped around on the broom, barely above the floor, laughing uproariously. He already had a full head of unruly black hair, closely matching the man that chased after him. She ran her finger over the ragged edge. “I wonder who else used to be in this picture?”

Carefully folding the letter with the torn picture safely inside, Ginny picked up the box, looking to see what else was in there. To her surprise, it was full of pictures and as soon as she saw them, she knew who’d taken them. “Colin,” she whispered, remembering one of the early dark days soon after the battle. Dennis had come to the house and given Ron the box. Rummaging through, she pulled out what must have been one of the early pictures because it was thoroughly Muggle, completely lacking movement.

The image showed the Gryffindor common room, the sight of the squashy armchairs, enormous fireplace and red-and-gold decor giving Ginny such a burst of longing that her eyes stung with held back tears. There, sitting at a table were Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron had his mouth open, obviously laughing, Hermione looking vaguely disapproving. Harry leaned back in his seat, grinning at her brother. His tie was loose and his wand was held casually in his right hand.

_Oh my God, they’re so young there! Just babies!_ Ginny thought, eyes hungrily devouring every nuance of the picture. Hermione looked as neat as if she hadn’t been in her uniform all day. “Look, love. That’s you and Ron and Hermione.” She frowned, looking for some sort of clue that would tell her what year the picture had been taken.

Staring at the image of Harry, she saw the slightest hint of a curl in his hair down by his collar. _It’s a bit longer than usual …_ she thought, memories of staring at Harry while trying to look like she was doing anything but bringing heat to her face. _He had that curl until he got it cut right before the match with Slytherin in his second year …_ Ginny’s mind swerved away from what happened after that match, when she’d been the master of the basilisk. _I’m sorry, Colin._

She handed the picture to Harry and looked in the box once more. “Let’s see if we can find one that’s a proper wizarding picture, shall we?” she said, sifting through the photographs. Ron’s shocked face caught her eye and she picked up the picture, breath catching in her throat.

There in the image, she saw herself running up to Harry, practically fizzing over with excitement and still in her dirty, sweaty Quidditch things. Eyes wide, she saw herself throw her arms around him, saw his momentary hesitation before he put his arms around her and then leaned in and … _he kissed me! That moment, I never knew which one of us kissed the other first …._ Transfixed, she stared at the picture, watching as she ran to Harry, embraced and kissed as if they weren’t surrounded by their entire house.

Harry’s finger intruded on her view of the two of them as blissfully ignorant teenagers and she blinked several times, coming back to the here and now. “See, Harry? Our first kiss.” She shook her head. “I had no idea Colin had a picture of it, but I should have known.”

Yawning widely, she handed him the picture, studying him as he looked intently at it, lips moving soundlessly. He was still wearing the clothes she’d nicked from Ron’s drawers, thankful that he hadn’t noticed the loss. _There’s that curl,_ Ginny thought, catching sight of where Harry’s dark hair curled inward behind his ear, a little bit longer than collar length. She reached out, tracing the curling lock with one finger before sliding her hand under his hair, resting her palm on the nape of his neck. 

She looked up at him, trying to see if their little stroll down memory lane had generated any changes in him. It seemed as if his eyes were less cloudy and his lips were a bit more pink. _Still cool to the touch, though._ Again, the idea of a princess waking from an endless sleep came to her and she licked her lips. _What could it hurt?_ she thought, heart speeding up in her chest. _And it’d answer a question, at any rate._

“Harry, look at me,” she said, stroking her thumb along the curve of his jaw. Taking his eyes off of the picture, he turned to her, looking almost like he had a question on his mind.

“Ginny,” he said softly, raising the picture.

“Yes. Harry,” she said, leaning in towards him. Closing her eyes, she met his lips with hers, pressing gently. They were cool, but soft and she found the sensation not entirely unpleasant. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at him, gauging his reaction. _They supposedly can’t feel any pain, but can they feel the opposite?_ she wondered, waiting for something, anything to change. 

To her surprise, Harry was making a sort of low, humming sound that almost reminded her of a cat’s purr. “Was that all right?” she asked, hand still on the back of his neck, nestled underneath his too-long hair.

“All right,” Harry echoed agreeably and she smiled.

“Shall we try again?” Leaning back in, she kept her eyes open until the last moment, closing them when their lips met. This time she pressed harder, the sensation of his lips against hers making her dizzy, a strange rushing sound filling her ears. Her fingertips began to tingle and—

Ginny didn’t hear the Floo in the kitchen fireplace until it was too late to do anything and she pulled quickly away from Harry, frozen in place as her brother and Hermione came around the corner.

“Looks like you’re feeling—” Ron said as he entered the lounge, freezing in the act of taking off his jacket as he saw Harry sitting next to her on the sofa. Faster than she thought possible, Ron’s wand was out and pointed straight at Harry, Hermione standing horrified behind him.

“Ginny, get away,” Ron said, his voice deadly calm, moving Hermione further behind him with his free arm.

“Ron, no! No, I can explain!” Ginny sprang up from the sofa, upsetting the box and scattering loose pictures all over. 

“Ginny,” Harry said, reaching for her arm. 

“I told you Ginny, that’s not Harry! Get out of the way!”

Clumsy from sitting still for so long, Ginny slipped on the loose pictures, nearly falling on top of Harry as she scrabbled for her wand on the coffee table. “Ron, it _is_ Harry! He knows me!” Ron stared at her, freckles standing out on his white face. She turned her attention to Hermione, giving her a beseeching look. “Hermione! Don’t let him hurt Harry!”

“Ginny,” Harry said, his voice sounding unsure as he started to rise from the sofa.

“It’s okay, Harry, it’s just Ron and Hermione,” Ginny said, trying to sound like everything was fine. “Ron, put your wand down and I’ll show you. He said your name! He knows you!”

Ron’s face flooded with red and he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tight as if he had stubbed his toe before opening them again. “Ginny, I’m not telling you again. That … _thing_ is not Harry. It’s an Inferius created by the Dark Lord and no amount of wishing is going to change that! Now, get out of the way so I can deal with it!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry stand up, that line between his brows again. “Ron,” he said and Ginny saw the blood drain from her brother’s face.

“See! I told you—” Ginny’s legs went stiff and she squawked in dismay as she fell over, landing painfully on her shoulder, wand falling from her nerveless fingers.

“Ron, no—” Hermione said as Harry grunted Ginny’s name, sounding angry for the first time.

“Stay back Hermione!” Black ropes sprang out of Ron’s wand, wrapping Harry’s arms against his body. Growling, he seemed to flex and give his arms a sort of shake and the ropes broke, falling uselessly to the floor. Ginny watched, paralyzed, as a jet of red light hit Harry in the middle of his chest, making him stumble back half a step.

A deep, murderous growl came from Harry’s throat and he advanced on his former best friend, hands raised menacingly. “Ron, stop! Please! Hermione! Don’t let him hurt Harry!”

“What’s all this racket?” Ginny’s heart stuttered when she saw her father’s face appear behind Ron’s. He took in the scene and his eyes widened as he pulled out his wand.

“Dad! It’s Harry! Please, don’t let Ron hurt him!” she cried as her legs started to tingle, a sure sign that the Leg-Locker Curse was wearing off. She struggled to rise, getting herself into a sitting position.

Too many things were happening at once; there were too many people in the room and the situation was spiraling out of control. Ginny swayed to her feet, a sucking, draining sensation threatening to drag her down into oblivion. 

“Ron, no!” she shouted, or at least she tried (thought?) to shout, her voice sounding like a record that had wound down. The air in the room had become heavy and oppressive, fairly crackling with energy and for a moment she fancied she could see tiny golden motes floating around on invisible currents. 

Harry bore down on her brother, anger distorting his features. Ron pushed Hermione towards the stairs, urging her to run and get away, to send for help and Arthur, coming to stand next to Ron, mixed expressions of horror and happiness on his face.

And in the middle of it all was Harry. Harry with his fists raised, ready to strike his best friend in the whole world because he’d put a Leg-Locker Curse on her. The draining sensation intensified and she saw Hermione, her hair standing out like an enormous pouf all around her head. Energy zinged along her skin and she saw those motes again, this time moving with more purpose. 

_Straight at Harry!_ she thought, struggling to move, to put herself between Harry and Ron. She’d nearly made it when Harry froze, fists raised above his head. A strange sort of groan sounded and he seemed to lift a few inches from the floor. An invisible wave of force hit her square in the chest, sending her tumbling to the floor, nearly hitting her head on the coffee table. A moment later she realized they were all on the floor and she looked wildly around for another person but there was no one.

Only Harry in the middle of the room, curled up in a ball, heaving and coughing like someone who’d just been saved from drowning.

***  
Ginny hovered anxiously out in the hallway, the tiniest bit resentful that she wasn’t currently allowed into the room. _I am a trainee. I know how to not get in the way,_ she thought, eyeing the Order member currently guarding access to Harry’s hospital room door.

Ever since they’d arrived at the secure wing of St Mungo’s, there had been a steady stream of Order members coming in and out of Harry’s room. Her father had been ensconced inside since they’d brought Harry from the Burrow, still struggling to breathe properly. He’d been steadily sending out his Patronus, the air filled with silver streaks as astonished replies started coming in.

Soon after the first silver weasel hurled itself through the wall, Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived, his brightly-colored robes swishing as he swept into the hospital room, barely sparing a glance at Ginny. More Order members arrived and clustered in the hallway, their whispers sounding like the surf on the beach outside Shell Cottage. Some of them seemed to be cognizant of her role in finding Harry and gave her searching looks. 

Slumping further down in her hard chair, Ginny crossed her arms and looked over, meeting Hermione’s eyes. “You look exhausted,” she said. “Go home and get some rest.”

“I could say the same to you,” Hermione said with a wan smile. “But I can’t. I have to talk to him first.” She squirmed in the hard chair, wincing as she put her hand against her lower back. They had all breathed a sigh of relief when the Healer said that her tumble to the floor hadn’t caused any damage to mother or unborn child.

“Yes, but I’m not—” Ginny said, about to say _pregnant_ when her dad came out of the room. Lines of exhaustion were etched on his face, but his eyes shone with excitement. The quiet chatter in the hallway stopped immediately as everyone focused on Arthur. 

Clasping his hands, he visibly pulled himself together and gave the assemblage a wide smile. “What you have heard is true. Harry has come back to us,” he said, waving his hands to quiet the gasps that rose around him. “We will meet as scheduled next Wednesday and all of your questions will be answered then. Now, I know you’re all aware of the need for the utmost secrecy, so,” he gestured at Hermione who unfurled a long sheet of parchment. “Hermione has something for you all to sign. Be advised that if anyone divulges what they have learned here today that the consequences will be swift and permanent.”

Ginny heard a few mutters, but no one refused to sign the parchment. She had no doubt that something nasty would happen to the person that chose to tell someone that Harry had quite literally come back from the dead. One by one, the Order members signed Hermione’s parchment and Apparated away until only Hermione, Ginny and her father were left in the hallway.

She stood up, reaching for her dad’s hand. “Where’s Mum?”

“Inside with Ron. She’s been fussing at the Healer this whole time,” Arthur said, sitting down in the chair next to the one Ginny had been in.

Hermione stood laboriously and waddled into the room. Ginny moved to follow, but Arthur put his hand on her arm. “Let them see him first,” he said quietly, motioning for her to sit back down in her chair, taking the one next to her. A moment later, he sighed. “So, care to tell me what happened?”

“Is this an official Order debrief?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. Her father gave her a small shrug and Ginny took a deep breath, reasonably sure she wasn’t in a whole lot of trouble. Marshaling her thoughts, she told her dad of the fateful day that she’d discovered Harry as one of the Dark Lord’s Inferi in Diagon Alley. “I couldn’t leave him, Dad. He recognized me and you know that they … they don’t remember anything.” She paused for a moment. “I dated a boy, a Ravenclaw called Michael Corner and he was there, one of them and he didn’t know me at all.” _I was his first kiss,_ she thought, keeping that to herself. “Harry said my name.”

“And you kept him hidden at the Burrow?” Arthur asked, reminding her of that time when she’d left the door of the chicken coop open after gathering the morning’s eggs.

“Yes. I mean, I knew that I couldn’t bring him out in front of everyone in the … state he was in. I told Ron when I’d first seen him and he insisted …” she swallowed, remembering the conversation with Ron in the pantry. “He insisted that it wasn’t Harry. That he was some … thing.” Her father patted her hand in sympathy. “I thought maybe there would be a potion or a spell or something I could use to bring him back.”

“So that’s why you were so attentive to old Slughorn.”

Blushing, Ginny nodded. “I thought if anyone knew of a potion, he’d be the one. He didn’t, but I asked him why he thought Harry survived the first time the Dark Lord tried to kill him and he said it was love.” Her dad nodded, looking deep in thought and she went on. “He said that his mum, Lily, took the curse intended for Harry and that her love made a sort of protection for him. I thought that if some of that protection was still in him …” She fell silent, thinking of all the late nights she’d spent with Harry since bringing him back from Diagon Alley, telling him stories of their time in Hogwarts, holding his hands, telling him that she loved him, that Ron and Hermione loved him ….

“And?” her dad asked, bringing her back to the dingy hospital hallway. 

Ginny shrugged and looked up at him with a grin. “I guess it worked.” Just then, Ron and Hermione came out of the room. Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears and Ron’s nose was running. Ginny let go of her dad’s hand and stood, nervously smoothing down her jumper. Ron grabbed her up in a hard hug, making her squeak in surprise. 

“Thank you,” he murmured as he kissed her temple. “Thank you for bringing him back to us.”

Ron let her go for Hermione to step in, hugging her nearly as hard as Ron had despite her pregnant belly. Hermione’s tears triggered Ginny’s own and she had to struggle to get herself back under control, using her bare hands to wipe the tears away from her face. “Go see him. He’s been asking about you,” Hermione said, giving her a wavery smile.

Ginny looked at her dad, a thrill running through her at his nod. “We’ll see you at home,” he said, giving her his own hug. Suddenly shy, she paused at the side of the doorway, oddly hesitant to go in. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair and self-consciously pulled down the hem of her jumper before stepping into the dim hospital room.

Harry lay in the bed, eyes closed as her mother hovered around him, smoothing the blanket that covered him. A Healer Ginny didn’t know made adjustments on a strange-looking machine near Harry’s head, frowning at some sort of spinning whirligig. A moment later, Ginny was by his side with no clear memory of crossing the room. 

Molly stopped her fussing and looked down at Harry, reaching out to touch his cheek, but stopping herself at the last moment. “Let him sleep,” she whispered, leaning in close to Ginny. “He’s gone through a terrible time.”

“There’s never been a documented case of someone who’d been turned into an Inferius coming back from it,” the Healer said, looking up from his clipboard. _American,_ Ginny thought, not terribly surprised. _The Order are really keeping this under wraps._ He shook his head. “ _Magical Healing Today_ is going to have a field day with this once I’m able to publish my findings.”

Ginny stopped herself from shaking her head at him. _He hasn’t been alive for twelve hours yet and already people are trying to make their names from his._ “Can I stay here for a few minutes, Mum?” she asked when Molly put her hand on her arm.

“Of course, dear,” Molly said after a moment, turning her grip into a pat. “Arthur and I would like to chat with you in the hall,” she said, guiding the Healer out of the room. 

Finally alone, Ginny let out a breath, staring down at Harry. His skin was still pale, but now there was the warm flush of blood underneath and his chest rose and fell with his breathing. On his neck, she could see the steady beat of his pulse and she had to stop herself from counting them.

She was just tracing the curve of his sooty lashes with her eyes when they fluttered and he looked directly at her, green eyes as clear as the first time she saw them. He held his hand out to her. “Are we alone?” he asked, his voice husky from the coughing spasms of learning to breathe again.

Ginny’s breath froze in her throat and it took her a moment to formulate a response. “Yes,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers, trying not to squeeze painfully tight as she reveled in the warmth of his touch.

“Good. Come here.” Harry tugged gently on her hand and Ginny leaned forward, arching her body over the bed rail. Convinced she was in a dream and would wake up any second, she met Harry’s lips with hers, a tingle zinging through her at the feeling of them warm and soft against her own.


End file.
